


At Midnight

by ratherbehere



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Barebacking, Established Relationship, M/M, Orgasm Delay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 06:22:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratherbehere/pseuds/ratherbehere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misha has a plan for ringing in the New Year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a celebration fic on New Year's Eve 2013 for my tumblr peeps. Originally posted [here](http://caswouldratherbehere.tumblr.com/post/71774457912/fic-at-midnight-cockles-explicit).

“Miiiisha,” Jensen protests feebly as the man in question pulls him into a bedroom and kisses him soundly. “What are you doing? The party is downstairs and the ball drops in 30.”

“Plenty of time,” Misha purrs as he continues kissing his partner, working quickly at his clothes. Jensen stops protesting verbally, but he doesn’t help either. He accepts the presses of tongue and nibbles as Misha divests him of his clothes, and the struggle between pushing Misha away and giving in ends when Misha wraps his fist around his cock.

“Fine, we can have a quickie,” Jensen says, sounding like sex is the most put up thing he could ever imagine. The truth is, having sex while a party rages downstairs is something Jensen would never consider, but he can’t deny Misha anything, especially when he puts that fucking twist on his wrist.

“Knew you’d agree,” Misha says just before pushing Jensen onto the bed, flat on his stomach. Jensen huffs, like bottoming is another burden, and they both know that’s a lie. He loves it, more than he would ever admit. And from a purely strategic perspective, Jensen gets stretched out more regularly than Misha anyway, which is helpful when time is of the essence.

Of course, exchanging some blowies would be faster, and they wouldn’t have to search the drawers in hopes for lube and condoms.  

Misha apparently has no such qualms with the invasion of privacy and as Jensen kicks his pants and boxers the rest of the way off, he watches Misha pull out a bottle of lube and frown.

“No condoms,” he explains.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jensen bitches. “You get me like this and we can’t?”

“Unless…” Misha says and leaves it hanging. It takes Jensen an embarrassing amount of time to figure out what he means.

Bareback. He shivers. They have never done bareback. They’re both clean, he trusts Misha and knows he’s always careful, so the risk is almost non-existent. There’s no reason not to, except for how intimate it is. He’s never gone without a condom  _ever_.

He thinks of skin on skin, Misha’s cock uncovered inside of him, no barriers, and he shivers again.

“Yeah,” he agrees breathlessly.

Misha has a finger slicked up and slid inside him before he can blink.

“Fuck!” he cries out. Misha smacks his ass with his free hand.

“Someone could walk by and hear that, Jen,” he admonishes. Right, as if he’s embarrassed. The guy has a borderline exhibitionism problem.

And well, maybe so does Jensen. Tthe idea of someone walking by, friend, coworker, stranger, whoever, hearing him moan like a porn star as he fucks himself on Misha’s finger, it only makes him moan louder.

It feels like forever before Misha adds a second finger, but it feels so good he doesn’t even care. Misha’s gotten pretty deft at finding his prostate and he’s using that to his advantage, thrusting to the sound of the bass of the music coming from downstairs. It thrums in Jensen’s veins and the sounds he’s making should be embarrassing but he can’t be bothered to give two shits as Misha massage his prostate into submission.

By the third finger he’s wibbling and his eyes are tearing up at the overwhelming sensations.

“Quickie,” he finally gasps. “Mish, this is supposed to be a quickie. Fuck me already.”

He’s just really glad he has an excuse. Misha gets far too smug for his own good when he gets Jensen to beg.

He hears Misha unzip himself, and that’s when he realizes Misha never got undressed. He’s been naked this whole time, and Misha is only now pulling himself out. Somehow, he finds that even sexier and his aching cock throbs with arousal.

Misha lines up behind him and takes a deep breath before slowly pushing in.

“Oh my god,” Jensen moans at the slow slide of being filled, pure Misha. No condom, no barriers, and his whole body sings with it. “It’s all you Mish, fuck.”  Fuck, a quickie in some undetermined person’s bedroom should not have been the first time they did this.

It takes him a moment to realize Misha isn’t moving.

“Mish?”

“Jensen,” Misha says breathlessly, voice full of awe and wonder. “This, this had not been part of the plan.”

Jensen gets the feeling, but. “Plan?”

Misha answers his question by pulling out and thrusting back in roughly. Jensen yelps, his cock throbs and god he hopes cleaning up this person’s bedspread won’t be too difficult. He’s already dribbling pre-come all over it.

His hips are gripped roughly as Misha pulls him backwards onto his dick and it sends him scrambling for purchase on the bed, gripping the bedspread tightly as Misha pounds him hard.

And then not so hard.

And then aims for his prostate.

And then stops aiming for it.

Misha is too good for this to be an accident.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jensen barks back at him. “The ball will be dropping soon, this was supposed to be a quickie!” Not that he knows exactly what time it is, he just knows they don’t have long.

Misha doesn’t respond. And as he often does when he thinks Jensen needs to be more in the moment, adjusts the angle and fucks him harder.

For a blessed moment anyway, then he eases up again. So it goes, as Misha drives him to insanity, fucking him like a wild man, sometimes rough, sometimes not, sometimes too much, sometimes not enough.  Jensen gets preciously close to the brink several times, only for Misha to slow back down.  The sixth time that happens, Jensen is dizzy with the need for release and is ready to yell at him again to just grip his dick and let him come (who the fuck cares about midnight at this point), when he hears counting begin from downstairs.

It also marks when Misha picks back up the pace, wraps his hand around Jensen’s length, and puts every dirty trick he’s ever learned into play.

Jensen rushes towards orgasm so fast the world spins.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!”

He doesn’t even hear the cheer from downstairs, he’s too busy coming his brains out, noting vaguely the new sensation of Misha shuddering and releasing inside of him before whiting out.

There’s still cheering from downstairs and the sounds of Auld Lang Syne drift up to him as he regains conscious ness.

There’s also a strange sensation of cool, tacky fluid leaking out his ass.

He’s not sure how he feels about that until Misha, curled up beside him, presses a kiss to his forehead. He sighs happily. The strange feeling on his backside, he knows where it comes from, who put it there, and that makes the sensation pleasant and satisfying, instead of gross and unwelcome.

“I hope an orgasm worthy of losing consciousness makes up for missing the new year’s turn,” Misha says softly.

Jensen snorts. “I suppose. Was that the plan?”

“In a way,” Misha says. “I didn’t want to share a kiss with you at midnight. I wanted to share an orgasm.”

Well, that makes sense.

In as much as Misha ever makes sense.

Jensen nods, “Sure, okay.”

“Finding out you like bareback and some extreme orgasm edging, that was just a bonus.”

He groans. Leave it to Misha to find kinks he didn’t even know he had. Fuck, Mish didn’t even mention the clothing thing. Which likely means he didn’t notice, and that gives Jensen something to play with. It’s not often he gets to surprise Misha.

It bothered him at first, how Misha seemed to read him like a book. Misha had started worming his way inside Jensen’s layers the first day they met. It doesn’t bother him anymore, and he’s thankful to have someone who connects with him so deeply. Most days, Misha seems to know him better than he knows himself, on some level that transcends description. Every year they get closer, every year his guard slips and he worries just a bit less. Every year he falls just a little bit more.

He has no idea what this year will bring, but they sure did ring it in with a bang. And with Misha by his side, he has a feeling it will only get better.

Bring on 2014.


End file.
